


Three Years

by Flamboyant_Peacock



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fem!Hannibal/Guy!Will, Major character death - Freeform, POV Alternating, POV Female Character, POV First Person, believe me, dark!Will, fem!Hannibal, or should i say "deaths", this got more complicated than i first thought
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-05 15:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1822756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamboyant_Peacock/pseuds/Flamboyant_Peacock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been three ears since I, Hannibal Lecter, was captured and imprisoned for my crimes as the Chesapeake Ripper. Three years since I tried to kill Will Graham, but failed. Now I am going to finish what I started. <br/>  Throughout my journey I feel as if I am being watched, Not only by the police but by something or someone with a more sinister intent. <br/>  I walk up the front steps of Will's house and knock on the door. He answers and lets me in without a word. He has changed. He has finally turned into the creature I had intended to make him. Maybe it was the man on the floor behind Will, shuddeing his last breath, or the blood that coveres Will's arms that gives it away. No. It is his eyes. His eyes are dark and empty as I know mine are. He is truely beautiful like this. <br/>  He looks at me and takes a step forward. Once more I look into his eyes and now I cannot help but feel that I should have stayed in my cell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hannibal

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic ever! woo-hoo! In case you don't know, this fic has Fem!Hannibal paired with Guy!Will. Also the POV will change throughout the story. To let you know who's POV the particular chapter will be in I will be putting their name as the chapter title. Thanks for clicking, and I hope you enjoy!

My eyes flash open. It is time. It has been three years since I was first locked in my cell here at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Three years since I had finally been caught. Three years since I had attempted to kill Will Graham, but I just couldn't do it... that had been my downfall. Now, finally, I will be escaping. Months of careful planning and mental preparation for this moment will at last, be put to use. 

You would think that it being known that I was- am - the Chesapeake Ripper, the person who turned dozens upon dozens of people into the most delectable gourmet food and then proceed to feed them to my guests, that my cell would be more closely guarded. Other than my psychiatrist that comes every afternoon from 3:00-5:00, and the staff member that deliveres my food at 8:00, 2:00, and 6:30, I am constantly alone. Perhaps they think that if I am alone that I cannot influence anyone to my advantage. They are wrong. I, Hannibal Lecter, am a resourseful woman. I can overcome any challenge, mental, physical, or otherwise. 

Sheryl, the one who brings my food, once told me, in a moment of vulnerability, that she had discovered that her husband was cheating on her. I could not bear to waste such a lovely opportunity, especially not one such as this. A stressed and incredibly emotional woman, who had three children, a cheating husband who had fled and refused to help his family once he had been discovered, and that, in a moment of great need, snatched up the first job she could get. Luckily for me, Sheryl had been placed as a food deliverer at BSHCR. It didn't have the best pay, but it was enough that Sheryl stayed. Work was work, and when you have three hungry mouths to feed and bills and other such things, you don't just leave because you don't like your job. 

A mind vulnerable enough to be shifted in its opinions and thoughts. It was practically gift-wrapped for me. Plus it helps a lot that we look similar. Our hair is the same color, length, and is even parted alike, we are even the same height and relatively the same weight. 

Over the months that follow our first meeting, I set myself to be a friend, a support system, and a ferry to help Sheryl through the sea of emotions that plague her. I firmly plant myself within Sheryl's trust. Becoming the putty that fills the cracks of the poor woman's mind.  
No one is around to hear our conversations, there are cameras yes, but they don't have any auditory acconpaniment. Nobody ever hears the soft sniffs, the reasurring tones, or the rattle of trays in unsteady hands. A slow symphonic serenade of sinisterness, that swims through the air, left unheard by all. 

Convincing Sheryl that I feel guilty for my life as the Ripper is relatively easy. Crying softly after my meetings with my psychiatrist is a key factor. I am good at crying on cue, and Sheryl doesn't suspect a thing. They say that the greatest trick the devil ever made was convincing the world that he didn't exist. I use this as my guide. 

Over time Sheryl, upon my request, starts to sneak things around for me. A sweet here, and extra drink there, but things soon progress and it is not long till letters are passing under trays and into sleeves. 

The letters are being sent to an old friend who can hack into any system. My plan is simple. During a five minute interval my "friend" will shut down the security cameras and open my door as soon as Sheryl rolls her food cart through the door on the far side of the otherwise empty cell block. I, pretending to sleep, will render the unknowing Sheryl unconcious and switch our clothes and position her on the cot and shut the cell door. I will place the tray on the shelf in the barred door like protocol states. Then the system will come back online just in time to see I, "Sheryl", roll the cart back out and to the kitchen to leave for a prescheduled lunch break. 

Months and months of careful planning has finally led up to this moment. I can only sit and hope that the plan goes off without a hitch. 

So I sit. 

And wait. 

I am ready. 

I lay "sleeping" on my cot when the far door creakes open and Sheryl walkes in and rolls the cart over. She is speaking but I am not listening. 

The cell door clicked open. Sheryl turns to see what causes the sound only to see me a few feet away from her. I hit her head and she collapses. Her mind knowing nothing but darkness. 

Three years. 

I am ready.


	2. Sheryl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here I am again! Chapter 2 is ready and is being posted on the same day... this will probably never happen again... haha! Enjoy!

"Hanna, I think you're gonna like what I brought you today! Some lotus blossom green tea. I heard it was your favorite!" Oh. She's asleep. Poor dear must be tired after her latest session with Dr. Chilton, it's not the first time she's cried herself to sleep after one of their talks. Thank goodness I thought to bring her favorite tea. She needs something to cheer her up.

I turn to grab the tray off my cart when I hear a small metallic clink and the screech of metal hinges. I turn around and Hanna is standing quite closely. Uncomfortably close to be honest. No more than a foot away and staring intensely into my eyes. Somehow she got out of her cell. I trust her enough not to freak out but I take a step back. She looks different from how I usually see her. She seems unstable, feral almost.

"Ha-Hannibal? What's g-going on?" I stutter and smile nervously. She isn't supposed to be out of her cell without an armed gaurd standing a few feet away. "Wh-what are you doing ou-" 

___________________

My head is pounding as I sit up. My neck and back ache as well, as if I have slept on something hard for several hours. Apparently I have. Im sitting on a metal cot with a thin lumpy mattress if that's what you could call it. I look around and see gray stone walls which are bare except for large black and white pictures of landscapes, buildings, and the occasional portrait. I stand up and notice my clothing is different. Instead of my blue uniform dress and red flats I'm wearing a dingy gray colored jumpsuit and simple (uncomfortable) white sneakers. My hair is styled differently too. It's in a braid and my red bow is missing. There is a tray of food on the desk across from me. Next to it are more pictures. I walk closer to the desk to get a closer and realise that the pictures are accually incredibly realistic pencil drawings. With signatures in the bottom right corners. _Hannibal Lecter_ I'm in Hannibal's cell? How did I get heeee... Oh. Panic slinks into my mind like venomous snake. It nestles into the crevices of my being and feasts. I have to get out of here. I don't belong in this cell. I'm not Hannibal Lecter! 

"LECTER?! You in there? You know the drill, face the corner an put your hands on your head!" 

That must be the guard who takes Hannibal to the rec room while the routine cell inspection takes place. James. That's what Hannibal once told me his name was. He sees me quite often in the hallways and we share friendly words but we never truely exchanged names. Hopefully he will recognize me. 

"James it's me Sheryl! You've to help me! Please!" I beg with him. 

"Nice try Lecter... now get in the corner and put your hands on your head." He doesn't believe me. The flicker of hope I had of getting out of here goes out. He looks stern and uncaring, completely different from when I've talked to him in the hallways. He always seemed nice and caring... He was kinda cute too. 

He yells at me again and I flinch in suprise. "I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU AGAIN! GET IN THE CORNER AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND HEAD!" Utter rage. That's all I see in him now. 

"James please you have to believe me! I'm not Hannibal Lecter! She put me in here! Im Sheryl, the food cart lady, we talk all the time! Please please please HELP ME!" Tears are welling up in my eyes. 

"Well, I don't believe you... Honestly Lecter, you're gonna have to try harder than that!"

"What don't you believe me?! I don't even look anything like her!" My voice is shaking uncontrolably now. Thoughts of my children flash in my mind. If I don't get out of here soon I may never see them again. 

"Oh really?" He scoffs lifts hand to point across the room and says, "Look in the mirror!" 

I shuffle over to the small dirty mirror that hangs above a metal sink. I gasp. The resemblance is uncanny. How could I have not noticed this before... Apparently Hannibal- no, it's Lecter now- had. She took advantage of me and I honestly don't feel like she deserved to be addressed, enen in my mind, by her first name. It seemed to friendly of these circumstances. 

I'm openly sobbing now, I don't even know when I started. My body is shaking and I collapse on the floor, tucking my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I'm rocking back and forth when I hear voices whispering outside of the cell. I look up to see Dr. Chilton speaking quitely to James, both men wearing concerned expressions. 

Dr. Chilton walks over to the cell door and takes something out of the inside pocket o his jacket. A handkerchief I soon realise as he tosses it lightly for it to land next to my left foot. 

I reach out to pick it up and mumble a thanks. I dry my eyes and look up to find him still standing there looking at me intently. He shuffles his feet a bit and then speaks. 

"This is unusual behavior Hannibal. What has happened?" He stands there with his hands in his pockets and waits for my reply. 

"I-I-I'm n-not Han-n-nibal Le-e-cter! " I say in-between my hitched breaths. I stand up and reach out to steady myself as I stumble slightly. Walking closer to the barred cell door I see Dr. Chilton tense up slightly. I take a deep breath and continue, "My name is Sheryl Lakes. I work here! James, you know the food cart lady that wears bows in her hair and talks to you in the hallways? Thats me! Please you have to believe me!" 

"What proof do you have?" "How do we know for sure?" Both men reply at the same moment. 

I think hard about myself and what could be used and evidence of my identity. "I have two daughters named Layla and Taylor, and I have a son named Nathan." I tell them this with a rushed manner. "I also know that the other people that deliver food in the other wings of the building are Kayla, Johanna, and Lucas. The gaurd at the employee entrance is Mr. Cobb and he used to own a blue mustang which he called 'Selene'. His wife has a wiener dog named Freddie, but he calls it 'Little Shitter', and that he once 'drop kicked the damned thing across the backyard fence and onto the neighbors grill'." 

Both men looked thoughtful. James speaks up after a moment and says to me, "That's all true, but someone could have told you those things."

I think and think and think... Oh right! I know! I used to regret having it but, "MY TATTOO!" 

The men jumped at my exclamation. I suddenly drop to the floor and start tugging on my left sneaker. It won't come off. The laces have been double knotted. I groan loudly and slap my foot against the floor in frustration. My fingers fumble with the laces a bit more and I finally get them undone. Quickly sliding the shoe off my foot and yanking off the socks, I stand up and turn my back towards the men and lift my left foot behind me. On the back of my heel just below my Achilles tendon is a flower resting up against an elegantly swirled "S". 

"I got it when I was 17. My friends and I each got our favorite flowers with our first initial. It's written down in my file! Go check!" Dr. Chilton turns to James and jerks his head to the door and tells him to hurry. I'm relieved slightly but I am still stuck in this cell. I shiver slightly. Despite the warmth of the cell block, the room seems cold and cruel. Just like the woman who usually resides here, I realise. 

Blind. I've been so BLIND! How did I not see her for the monster that she was? They told me who she was, what she did, but I didn't listen. I fell into her trap... no I didn't fall. I walked. I walked like the blind fool I've always been. I hear James' footsteps and he rushes back to Dr. Chilton, who turns and says. "And?" 

"It says it right here." He holds out the folder with my name on it towards the psychiatrist. "It has a picture of it and everything. Look" 

Dr. Chilton flips open the folder and scans it quickly and nods.

I sigh in relief. My heart feels a little lighter now. They explain to me that, to be sure, a DNA test will be performed but at the moment she was free to go. The fact that Lecter is gone now finally registers in our minds. Dr. Chilton runs to the far wall and slams his hand onto a button. Alarms start blaring and I hear a large commotion arise around the building through the door across the cell block. I yell out to him as he is about to leave, "Can you let me out now please?"

He turns and yells that I'll be free to go once I cooperate and walk to medical with James. And with that he stormes out of the door and starts yelling at some poor soul who got in the way. I dash across the cell and pull on my sock, then shove my foot in the sneaker that was left laying under the cot where it had landed. I haphazardly tie the laces and run to the corner. I place my hands behind my head so fast that I practically slap myself. James chuckles at my behaviour as he opens the cell door and walks behind me and handcuffs as is regulation. For a moment he forgets I'm not Lecter and tightens the cuffs to a painful amount and I flinch.

"Oh I'm sorry" He says and loosens the cuffs a bit. They are still pretty tight but I understand that in his mind there is still a possibility that I was lying before and am really Hannibal Lecter. I don't say anything in reply.

________________

Before I know it the test results are back and I am released from the constricting restraints. James smiles at me shyly and apologises for the way he treated me at the beginning of this whole ordeal. 

"You seemed so different from how I usually see you." I say. "Angrier. Filled with hate it seemed." 

He reached his hand up to stroke something on a chain around his neck. "My wife." he says. 

He drops his hand and I see that it was a ring. Two rings accually. A beautiful set that in total had 7 diamonds and a stunning emerald. It was extravagant, and probably cost more than he could have afforded at the time. He notices my gaze and easily guesses my thoughts. He looks down, smiles and says, "Her favourite gem was an emerald. And as for the diamonds they represent the number of years we had known eachother. I saw the set when I was walking to work one day. I thought of her instantly and knew I could give her nothing less."

"Oh. What happened to her?" I ask. Then I realise that wasn't the most polite thing to say. "Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! I have no business asking about your private life-"

James cuts me off saying, "No. No, it's fine..." He looks up from the ground and into my eyes. "She was a victim of the Ripper. Her name was Claire. She was found at the park near our house hanging upside down from a lamp post. Throat cut and bled like a pig!" Anger blazes in his voice. His eyes brimming with tears. 

I walk over to him and rest my hand on his shoulder, asking permission to comfort. He apparently understands my intention but instead of allowing me to hold him he decides to hold me. He grabs my waist and pulls me into his lap. I tense up at first but force myself to relax. I feel him breathing erratically, trying not to cry. I wrap my arm around his back and his walls crumble. 

I realise that I'm crying as well. But not for the same reason. I was betrayed. I was betrayed by the one person who I thought cared about me, Hannibal Lecter, that bitch. How I allowed myself to trust someone like her was something that would most likely remain a mystery. I was so angry. Angry at Lecter for leaving me to rot in her place. But mostly angry at myself for what I had done. I did this. I caused this fiasco. I allowed her to escape. It was all me.

James had stopped crying a few minutes ago but saw that now I was the one who needed to be comforted. I feel pain in my head and then he is grabbing my arms and forcing me to tuck them to my chest. I look down to see that strands of dark blonde hair are between my fingers. My hair. There is screaming too. And then silence. 

I had passed out. I realised James continuted to hold me and was whispering comforting words into my ears though I couldn't make out what they were. I turned to look into is eyes and he says to me, "It's alright now. We will find Lecter and fix this. Now what do you say to some fresh clothes and some tea to soothe your throat? How 'bout that?" 

I nod and then questioningly ask, "To soothe my throat? Why?" But as soon as I hear my voice I find it painful and scratchy. 

"You were sreaming." he replies. So it was my screams I heard. He repeats his ealier question. "So what do you think? Tea and clothes?" 

And again I nod in the affirmative. I expect him to let me off his lap, but he doesn't. He loops his arms around my back and under my knees and stands up. Uncaring to the stares of the people around us, James carries me out of medical with my hands folded aross my torso and my head tucked under his chin. My eyes fall shut and I'm lulled into blissful sleep by the slow rocking of his steps like a boat in the sea and the sound of James, humming a song.


	3. Hannibal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for ch.3...

I have no regrets. None whatsoever.   
I look back at the life a have lived thus far and am delighted at what I see. From my first kill, the horrid butcher from the fresh market in France, to the most recent, a man who thinks- thought- that women were only on this earth for the pleasure of men. The sick bastard. I would have eaten some part of him if it weren't for the many disgusting things I imagine he has done. He would have been bitter like his disposition; or maybe sour with all the fear of all the women he has hurt lingering around him. He will not be missed.

However, I think soon I will be. 

It's been five hours since my break out and Sheryl, dear Sheryl, is probably walking free by now. Perhaps she had a mental breakdown. That would be delectable, knowing that all my hard work had paid off. 

No. I need to focus. A police cruiser drives by with the window down and I hear a voice crackle over the radio. The voice says to keep and eye out for a blonde woman with a red bow in her hair and a navy blue dress. (Well that's me.) And to approach with extreme cation. They don't seem to inform the officers who the woman is, or what she has done to warrant her arrest. 

'Extreme cation' they say. Ha! They have no idea what are talking about. It took over twenty S.W.A.T. men to take me down the first time. And I killed six of them before they pinned me to the ground. I will not be going back to Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane any time soon. That's for sure. 

I make my way into a clothing store to look for something that won't draw any unwanted attention, yet something a bit more... me. I spot a evergreen turtleneck and some black trousers that look nice enough for now. I look for a pair of new shoes next. I choose some black flats with gold embellishments on the toe. And I pick out a gold necklace to go with. I pay with the money left in Sheryl's purse and quickly switch clothes and dispose of the old garments. I look at my reflection in the window of the store as I exit. My hair is messy and my skin has an unhealthy gray tint to it. This certainly won't do. 

I see a woman of maybe 45 years wearing an outfit that blatantly says, "I'm rich!" draws closer from my left. This is perfect. It is by the sympathy of others that I must survive for now. I best choose my story wisely if I am to fool someone while in the new clothes I am currently wearing. I know just what to do.

I continue to stare at my reflection and will tears to come to my eyes. As she approaches I see her eyeing me warily; I sniffle and let the tears fall. 

"Are you okay?" she asks concerned, her voice laced slightly with wariness. 

I turn to look at her and glance down at her left hand. A glistening gold band sits prettily on her ring finger. I make sure she knows where I'm looking as I suddenly burst into a crying fit of epic proportions, even by my standards. I wail and sniff loudly and without the class of a woman of our stature. She flinches back a bit but stays within arms reach. Good it's working.

"Did something happen, sweetheart? You look rather upset." She reaches out and pats me on the shoulder awkwardly with a poorly disguised grimace. 

I wail again loudly before replying, "My hu-husband is ch-cheati-ing on me with my-y best fr-fr-friend!" At the end of my exclamation I start to cry even worse than before. 

Her grimace softens. "Oh you poor dear! What's your name, sweetie?"

"Ha-hannah."

"What are you planning to do for the rest of the day, Hannah?" she asks. 

"Going out to forget it all..." It comes out more a moan than anything and I sniffle again. 

The woman tsks and shakes her head. She reaches out towards me and grabs my hand reasuringly. "No. No. There will be none of that! And no more tears either! Let's get you fixed up now ok?" Her voice is gentle and understanding. I nod and mumble a "Thank you." The woman, Cathleen Shuber she informs me, guides me to a large white SUV and ushers me to sit in the passenger seat. She gets in on the other side and starts the engine. 

A few minutes later we drive up to a aqua colored building and get out. She must have been expected as a small entourage of people swarm us on either side and begin to babble senselessly about how bad my hair looks and the strange shade my eyes are. One woman, Tanisha her name tag says, is especially rude in with her gawking at my slightly bedraggled appearance and scoffs a little as if the notion of even touching me is offensive towards her. I'll ask for her buisness card after. 

Catheen whispers my "situation" and hands a silver card to one of the women, the leader it seems, who looks over at me and smiles with pity in her eyes. Oh this WILL be good. I'm given a full makeover. With some reluctance from Tanisha, whom I was unfortunately assigned to. And within the next two hours a mani-pedi was given, my hair was done (but not dyed per my request), make-up applied, and perfume sprayed. I accually feel human again. 

I ask for Tanisha's card. She eagerly hands it over not knowing what she, in that one action, has comdemed herself to. I smile and laugh. She thinks I'm happy with her work and flounces off to her next appointment who is waiting by her station. She looks back at me and waves. I plot creative ways to display her bloody corpse in a way befitting to her atrocious behaviour. I smile and wave back. 

I find Cathleen chating with the leader again and walk over to thank her for her generosity. She merely replies, "My dear, I know what you have been through! I went through the same thing a few years ago. I'm remarried now and much happier." 

Genuinely cuious, I ask, "What did you do before you remarried?" 

She chuckles. "Beat the you-know-what out of Carl and told the cops that Janet, my best friend then, was a prostitute. Turns out she was, but I didn't know that until they pulled her record!" She smiles as she looks off into the distance as if revisiting a fond moment. I laugh at her tale and thank her for the "advice". I wink at her. She giggles, wishes me luck, and waves good-bye as I walk out the door. 

I walk about a block away before I drop the facade and can finally feel somewhat like myself. I'll be back another day for Tanisha her hours are on the back of her card. I like the new look they gave me though. My hair is similar to how I used to have it when I was still in medical school, it rests in whispy layers just below my shoulders and my hair in front has been loosely pulled back with a clasp that happened to match my shoes and necklace. I smile. I wonder if would Will like it. 

Will. 

It has been so long since I saw him last. I wonder if he has changed much, I certainly hope not.

I'm not far from my house now and I am glad of this fact as my feet ache, not being used to this much walking anymore. I aim to fix this. And soon. 

I walk up the front steps and to the door. I try the handle, it's dusty and locked. That's good at least. It means that as far as I can tell no one has been in my house for awhile. I step down and into the foliage beneath the first window on the right. I kneel down and reach into the outermost bush and pull out a spare key that was taped to the largest stem. As I return to the door I begin feel uneasy. I push that feeling aside and walk inside, shuting and locking the door behind me. I lean up against it and wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark entryway.

The shadows lounge arcross the room like Romans at a feast and I weave between them as not to disturb. I make my way through the house with only the light from Sheryl's cell phone to illuminate the way. From the looks of it, the only room the FBI truely disturbed was my kitchen and I'm assuming they found the celler as well. 

Suddenly I feel, once again, uneasy. Like I'm being watched. Looking around the kitchen I locate a candle holder on the counter. I grab that, a candle, and a match and finally I can see more than the four lousy feet that the phone permited. The candlelight flickers across the room. I turn and walk away. No use lingering. I make no sound as I slink my way around, not opening any doors the check rooms only wishing to reach my bedroom. What used to be my bedroom. I feel like a stranger in my own house. 

I am exhausted. I don't even get undressed before I flop myself onto the bed my usual grace lacking. 

••••••••••

I wake up to the sun shining through my window. Only it's not the sun I realise. It's a spotlight from a helicopter. 

I'm not going back. Not today. 

Shooting up from the bed I only stop to slip on my shoes before I'm dashing across the house to the back door. I crack it open and peek out. As far as I can tell they haven't surrounded this side of the house yet. I step out cautiously and look around again. It was a stupid idea coming here. Of all the places to go this was definitely not the best idea. If I am to avoid capture then I need to find a better place to stay low and avoid detection until I manage to find Will. 

I step off the porch and onto the back lawn. I pause once more to listen. The helicopter and it's light is on the other side of the house but is making its way towards me as I stand watch. I turn and run into the forrest as far and as fast as my legs will carry me. I lose both of my shoes somewhere along the way. I only stop when my legs collapse on me, sending me crashing the ground. My right leg is stinging and I feel something warm drip down the back of my calf. 

I check the time on Sheryl's phone. It reads, "3:16 AM". I only managed to get roughly four hours of sleep as I arrived at my house around 11:00. I scoot over to rest my back against the nearest tree trunk. My leg begins to sting worse than before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again sorry about the wait... hope you liked it none the less! feedback is welcome, i enjoy hearing what you have to say! if you have any suggestions let me know!


End file.
